Peaceful
by Itachi. Oh Enka
Summary: Four years; and he wonders why it's not so peaceful anymore. // Character Death. Gregory/Christophe


Peaceful

Christophe leans over him with a blank expression, he's watching him with a smile, kissing his head and stroking his hair sometimes; when he feels like it's the best thing to do. To let the other know he's okay, that he'll be okay.

Gregory looks back at Christophe with soft, sad and red eyes. His shaking fingers clasp with Christophe's as he turns and stares up at the ceiling. Neither of them talk; and neither of them find the need to. They both know the situation and they both know what's going to happen.

Christophe looks down at Gregory still, even though the other is looking away. His eyes are sad now, and he looks down at his lap to hide the fact they're burning him; and the fact there's a lump in his throat that's choking him. But he won't weaken himself - not in front of Gregory, _not now_.

"Are you okay?" Gregory whispers softly, turning to face the other. Christophe keeps his gaze to his lap, focusing on the voice he knows he won't hear for much longer. He listens to the beeps around the room and attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. "Hey," Gregory says a little louder, his voice rasping slightly.

Christophe looks up and Gregory smiles sadly, bringing his hand to Christophe's cheek, making the other shiver slightly - one of the last times Gregory will ever touch him, care for him with blue eyes. Argue with him. "Truzfully?" The French mercenary asks. Gregory nods weakly with a smile on his lips. "..I'm scared," He tells Gregory.

Gregory's eyes soften. Christophe has emotions, but Christophe likes to think that he doesn't - he likes to imagine that he is a hard man with no personality, no care for others. But finally the boy snaps and the tears in his eyes fall as Christophe's eyes meet a large oxygen tank; helping Gregory breath. He lets out a shaky breath and Gregory pats his cheek softly.

"Come here," He whispers, petting the bed weakly as he brings his hand from Christophe's cheek. Christophe climbs onto the bed and lies with Gregory, his head resting on a weak shoulder as he shuts his eyes. "..It's okay," Gregory tells him, "It's best isn't it? Nobody wants to spend their life suffering - well, the remains of it anyway."

Christophe laughs slightly, choking on his laugh. "I 'ate you," He whispers against the boy's pale skin.

Gregory smiles, closing his eyes and wrapping cold arms around a warm body, pulling the other to curl into his chest. "No you don't," He says in the softest voice he can come up with. Christophe keeps his eyes shut - tightening them closed and biting his bottom lip. "You love me," Gregory says.

Christophe shakes against Gregory's weakening body and sighs shakily against him, "Maybe," He replies, leaning up, opening his eyes and kissing Gregory's forehead. "..I'm going to mees you," He whispers, his eyes are stinging, painful with hurt and anger he holds toward everyone - everyone but Gregory.

"It will be peaceful," Gregory jokes, stroking his mercenary's head, "There will be no more telling you what to do, you can do what you wish in your own free time. There is nobody scolding you for wiping dirty boots all over the carpet, or making the bedroom a mess with your silly bloody shovel.." Gregory chokes slightly, but grins to himself. "..It will be peaceful," He repeats, kissing Christophe's head, "Because instead of doing all the negative things I'm going to watch you in Hell."

Christophe laughs softly, "Vhat makes you zink you're going zere?" He asks, curling back onto Gregory and just praying for once. That Gregory won't go. But Gregory sighs and shakes his head.

"Forget it, love," He says, stroking a shaking back, "I'll miss you Christophe, but I don't want you bothering yourself or others by sitting and wollowing in pity. Sure, I want you to be sad - I want you to die inside every time you look at this bed, every time you look at a picture of us, and every time my voice comes up on our answer mashine.. I want you to be sad, but I don't want you doing anything stupid.." Gregory says softly.

"Even 'ere you steel demand me around, beetch.." Christophe whispers, his voice tight with the blocking on his throat. His urge to cry; but he doesn't. He doesn't want Gregory seeing how much he's weak. "Go to sleep," Christophe tells him, a tear falling from his eye as he hides his face in the boys neck.

"..Alright.." Gregory says, he looks down at the mercenary and nudges him softly. "Hey, Mole.. I left you a letter. Because-" Gregory stops himself, not quite sure why he did, but he smiles, "..Because I'm scared too.."

Christophe chokes slightly against Gregory and tightens his eyes, "I may love you," He whispers, "But you're doing zis on purpose.."

Gregory doesn't reply.

- - - -

Christophe remembers the day Gregory died, he remembers the day Gregory was told he had cancer. He remembers the day he was told he was going to die. He remembers their childhood, their kisses shared, the love they made and the missions they went on.

He remembers Gregory and he cries everytime he looks at that bed.

_Mole; it'll be peaceful won't it. Everyone has to die, but the best thing to hope for - is that you took something from your life and you grasped it tight. Anything, anything at all. You have so much left to do you silly boy. Go do them; go to France and marry a rich French woman, have her children and name one after me - have one and be sure they know everything about the first person you ever loved._

_And the first person you ever hated. It'll be peaceful, Christophe and I'm scared to go, but I'm dying doing what I've loved doing - being with you, being with myself and my job and taking the time to make my decisions wisely._

_With love, and deepest apologise,_

_- Gregory_.

Christophe glances down at the child on his lap and smiles as the blonde fidgets on his lap. Gregory looks up at him with gentle dark coffee eyes and smiles softly. "Do you mizz 'im?" The boy asks softly. Christophe rests his head on his son's curls and closes his eyes.

"Every day, Gregory." He tells the younger one. Gregory blinks at his father's words and then looks back at the letter inbetween his fingers, holding it tightly and passing it back to his father. Christophe looks up, his wife is in the doorway of his office with a smile on her lips, a wooden spoon with icing on and an apron around her waist.

She walks into the room, blonde curls bouncing over her shoulders and her fringe swept to the side, the rest of her hair held beautifully back with a headband. Christophe picks his son up, placing him on his feet and placing the letter on his chair as he walks toward his wife.

"Dinner vill be ready een five minutes, I'm giving you five minutes to go zere, take Gregory and you tell 'im ze story 'e loves. Zen, you seet down 'ere wiz me, eat dinner wiz your son and I, and zen, cher, you can sleep eet off." His wife tells him, kissing his lips softly.

Christophe returns the kiss and places his hand on the lump on her stomach, kissing her nose lovingly and nodding to her as he takes his son's hand and leads him out of the office and out of the house - into the back garden of their large mansion where they overlook Gregory's grave.

"I 'ope your proud of me, beetch. Zis is all for you.." Christophe whispers, pulling his son to his chest as he kneels and runs his finger across the new looking stone. Four years; and he wonders why it's not so peaceful anymore.

He wonders why it hurts more than it did waking up... When Gregory didn't.


End file.
